


On Equal Ground

by shinigami_yumi



Category: Shin Megami Tensei: Devil Survivor 2
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Reality, Complete, Consent, Cooking, Identity, M/M, Mating Bond, Medical Trauma, POV First Person, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 22:13:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4804172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shinigami_yumi/pseuds/shinigami_yumi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hibiki is everyone's favourite Alpha. Yamato has kept being an Omega a secret all his life. Neither are terribly happy with the status quo, but there are some perks they plan to make the most of before they change the world. And it always starts with takoyaki.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Equal Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Last week, my friends and I were talking about how they should just rename Devil Survivor 2 to Hibiki's Harem because —let's face it— it is. At the mention of the recent rise in popularity of A/B/O in Japanese fandom, I'm hit with an epiphany: "Wait, that's it! It must be the Alpha pheromones. That's why everyone falls in love with Hibiki at first sight!" This is quickly followed by collective facepalming at how this actually makes MORE sense than canon, then, "Oh wow, imagine how much more bitter and yandere Yamato would be if he were an Omega."
> 
> And that is how this fic was born. I hope you enjoy. ;D

I'll be the first to confess there are some perks to being an Alpha — people are inclined to listen to you and let you lead them around. It's come in useful many times before. It's almost worth the inconveniences — the fights with other Alphas, the distractions of the rare Omega, the stereotyping of society. Almost.

To be honest, I think the consequences outweigh the profits.

After my first run in with JP's, seeing Yamato's obvious expectation that he would be obeyed without question and the kind of fanaticism he inspires in some of his personnel, I naturally assumed he was a fellow Alpha.

Only he didn't smell like one.

Actually, under his beautiful cologne, he didn't smell like anything — probably a Beta.

It wasn't until he came to see us after the battle against Merak that I caught whiff of the truth.

Colour me intrigued — the perfect and almighty Chief of JP’s turns out to be an Omega.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

"Come to collect the spoils of war?" Yamato asks without turning, arms resting on the bridge’s balustrade.

I take two steps back — biochemistry is the last card I want to play. I truly respect Yamato — I don't think anyone else could have lived his life with half his grace, and goodness knows I don't know the half of it. I'm actually certain his resentment is completely warranted, and I can see many advantages to his meritocratic ideals, but I also believe his version of the ideal world is far too radical to force down everyone's throats.

“No, of course not. I came to see if you were okay. You're not an opponent we can hold back against, but I never wanted to hurt you."

I mean that in every sense of the word. I remember what it's like to be all alone — as a child, I was bullied for being a studious loner, and I am eternally grateful for Daichi both trying to help me and being my only friend until puberty hit and the Alpha pheromones won others over. Even now, seeing that loneliness in Yamato strikes a chord deep inside, and I want to be closer. I want to understand. Biology means I can't help but be attracted to him, not that his fine features and well-toned physique aren't beautiful, but the more I learn about him, the more I admire him as a person, and the more I want him by my side.

"How are your wounds?"

"Hmph.” He turns to level me a derisive look. “Who do you think you're talking to? I'm Hotsuin Yamato."

I smile — that's better. That spirit is more like the Yamato I know, not that lost, disappointed look in violet eyes gazing up at the sky over Dōtonbori's empty streets I'd chanced upon earlier.

"Tell me," he says, and I'm surprised he's the one initiating conversation — he’s never been one for idle talk. "Was this world a paradise for you before?"

"Not at all."

"Really? I thought you'd be happy with the status quo. You don't have to drug yourself constantly just so people don't think they can trample you if they try."

"No, but it'd be nice if people didn't think all I care about is sex and dominance. I'm tired of people being shocked I have a brain."

"Hahaha... Very devious, Hibiki. I can see you've more of a brain than most." He shakes his head, looking back out over Dōtonbori. "For me, the world before me was nothing more than worthless garbage. It was rotten, broken. The useless plebeians did as they pleased, without a care in the world… I cursed my own talent and birth. For I was a Hotsuin, who are bound to live by sacrificing themselves for this country."

"You have my sympathies."

"Haha... Don't misunderstand. I have no qualms at making that sacrifice for Japan. However… Look at the state of things!” He gestures sharply at our surroundings, the picture of bitter anger. “This is not the country the Hotsuin gave their lives for! My upbringing as a leader was not for the sake of being used as a pawn by the unworthy! To let some twist of genetics or fortune supersede all my efforts and achievements!"

I sigh. "Yeah, seriously."

He's right, of course — the structure of society today is terribly flawed. Particularly for one in his position, to be expected to give your life for those who see you as a mere object or tool, I can imagine how it has bred such deep resentment.

"Haha... So you understand. A normal person might think my ideals to be madness, the futile struggle of a confused child fighting his nature. But what is "normal" in this case?" He doesn't wait for an answer, fists clenched. "It is 'common sense' planted by others. Self-preservation for those who fear change! Worthless, utterly worthless!" It's rare to hear the composed and refined Yamato shouting in such upset, and I long to comfort him, to hold him close, but he'd only accuse me of manipulation. "So I chose to change the world via Polaris' invasion! What is so wrong with righting this fallen world...!?"

"It's not wrong. It's how you're doing it."

He side-eyes me. "Is that so? Are you saying you could lead the masses?" He scoffs. "Listen, Hibiki. Our forebears tried many methods of leading the people, and all of them came to despair at the idiocy of the masses they believed in! Let me tell you what your beloved citizenry is really like. They are benighted fools unworthy of being saved! The only time those plebeians will accept revolution is now, when their own lives and livelihoods are at stake!"

Heh, he's pretty devious himself, perhaps not quite desperate enough — I suppose it was inconceivable to him that he would lose in a fair fight. He’s tried to convince me "for my own good, as well as the good of the world" before, and all I want to know is how much of the concern and affection he showed me was genuine. He'd say I'm foolishly sentimental, but when he'd invited me to join him, I'd wished it'd been just about the two of us. I wonder what it’d be like if he’d been desperate enough to play the biochemistry card, if I would have gone with him without a care in the world. But now… Will he come with me?

"It'll be okay," I tell him — I'll make it so. "I'll show you."

Yamato hesitates, doubt warring with hope as he turns towards me. "I still cannot find any proof in support of your confidence, but you have disproved many of my assumptions this past week. Heh.” His gaze drops to the river below. “You may be able to do it. Genetics has favoured you, after all."

I shake my head. “No. I want us to be free, truly free, not bound by the roll of the genetic dice."

Violet eyes flick up to mine, and I grin.

“At the very least, you'll be able to pursue your ideals on equal ground. With your ability, I'm positive you will succeed. Want to stay and find out?"

Finally, he cracks a smile. "Ha... I see. Just as I yearned for you, now you are yearning for me."

_Wait. What?_

"Very well... My strength is yours."

"Thank you.” I’m glad the words come automatically — I’m still trying to ascertain if I heard what I think I heard. “I believed in you."

He laughs a bit wistfully. "I recall asking something similar of you. It seems I owe you now."

"Don't say that,” I chide, almost reflexively. “It's not about owing each other anything."

Yamato seems genuinely pleased as he turns to leave. "Well then, I have outstanding business to take care of. Go on without me for now."

"Wait!" I start to run after him.

He stops, so I do too, and I'm probably too close to be fair, but—

"Is it true?"

He glances back at me in question.

"You said you yearned for me. And I— I didn't come here seeking an ally. Yes, you're strong, and with your help, meeting Polaris and changing the world seems so close within reach, but I really came to find a friend.” And I don’t know how this will go over, but I don’t have time to hesitate. “Maybe more. I came to ask a person I admire to give me a chance to know him better before the world ends."

Violet eyes narrow. "Is that a choice?"

I step back. "Of course it is."

“All right.” Turning to face me fully again, he takes a step towards me. “You've known for so long, after all. I should repay your respect somehow. What would you like to do?"

Laughing, I keep my tone light. “We could make takoyaki."

"We could," he agrees with a warmer smile, taking another step closer. “I learned the recipe, and the main branch's kitchen does have the equipment we'll need… But first, the countermeasure."

"Yes," I sigh — it's a depressing reminder. “But when it's over, if we survive..."

"When we survive," he corrects as he continues to approach, and in his eyes, I see promise. “Perhaps..."

"Will you let me know you as an equal?"

He stops right in front of me, violet eyes alight. “Hah, the Alpha I tried to recruit as a right hand asks me to follow him as an equal after defeating me in battle. I can’t decide whether it’s mockery or flattery.”

"Neither," I insist, resisting the instinct to touch, to possess. “When the world changes and there are no more Alphas, Betas and Omegas, will you see it differently then?"

"What is it you really want, Hibiki?" he whispers the question — a challenge.

"What are you willing to give?"

He chuckles, doing an about-turn and walking away. “First, today's Septentrione. Don't disappoint me."

I watch him go till I can no longer see his back.

_Was that an invitation?_

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

When I arrive at the kitchen, Yamato is already there, coat hanging by the door, shirt sleeves rolled up and gloves off. All the necessary ingredients and appliances are already out, but more importantly...

"You smell divine." It's his natural scent — I've caught hints of it before, but for the first time, I can smell him from across the room. I hope Keita hasn't noticed.

He starts pouring ingredients into a mixing bowl. "Heh, that's just the hormones talking."

"No," I say with a grin as I come to stand behind him. “I really liked your cologne before this too."

He glances at me with what might be fond exasperation as he continues making the batter. “Go grease and heat the takoyaki pan."

It feels like I should resist being ordered around, but I comply anyway. In short order, he’s spooning batter into the pan, and I drop in the octopus pieces he’s marinated. He sprinkles the ginger, I sprinkle the green onions, and we wait. A couple of minutes, and it’s time to flip the takoyaki over, so he takes the picks and attempts to turn the first one.

It shifts a bit, just barely, and I get a glare for failing to smother my giggle when he fails a second time.

“Let me try?”

He shoves the picks at me in a manner I can only describe as sullenly, and I carefully turn the first one over the way I’ve seen them do it at stalls outside. I manage the second one a bit more quickly, and by the fourth, I think I’ve gotten the hang of it. If Yamato were the type to sulk, that’s exactly what he’d be doing — I can smell it in the air. I turn to offer him the picks.

“Want to try again?”

He seems to debate the merits of pride versus self-improvement before taking them from me, and he jumps when I take his hands from behind — we’re too close, I know, and a gloved handshake is about as much physical contact as he’s had before.

“It’s like this,” I tell him softly, guiding his hands to flip the next one before letting go and stepping back.

As expected, Yamato flips the rest with ease, and we soon have a nicely browned first batch of twelve on a plate. I drizzle a bit of takoyaki sauce and mayonnaise on, and he sprinkles on the seaweed and bonito flakes garnishing. He seems pleased by the result, and I’m glad — he isn’t afraid or angry about the earlier invasion of personal space.

“Well?" He looks expectantly at me.

Oh. I wasn't aware I was the designated taste tester, but I dutifully grab a pair of chopsticks and help myself to one. It's every bit as delicious as I expected. Marinating the octopus was an excellent choice — it's full of flavour.

"Great success!" I pronounce and offer him a piece.

He blinks, but allows me to feed him, and his eyes light up. “It's almost as good as what I had that day."

I'm aware I'm smiling like a lovestruck idiot — to be honest, I probably am, but it'd be disrespectful to think that I love him when I barely know him. I don't even know how much of the Yamato I think I know is real.

So I continue to feed us both takoyaki, and when we're done, he turns back to the pan to make a second batch. As he brushes oil over the pan, I wrap my arms around his waist from behind, and he tenses.

But he doesn't struggle, doesn't push me away. He could —honestly, I doubt I'm his match in raw strength— but he doesn't, and it's incredibly hot. I can't help but want him. But I'm afraid it's just the pheromones, that he'll resent me once the moment's over. That's what I hate the most about all this — I can't tell if anyone really likes or agrees with me; they just all think they do until I leave the room.

“Do you want me to let go?"

He considers before answering, "No," slowly relaxing. “I did skip my last two doses."

Oh. Letting out a relieved laugh, I tighten my hold a fraction. If he decided that earlier, then maybe this is okay, maybe there really is a chance. “Thank you. I'm honoured."

Instead of answering, he leans back into the embrace, and I bury my face in his shoulder, inhaling deeply.

“Heavens, you smell amazing," and I want him; I want all of him so much. "Can we barricade the kitchen before anyone walks in on us?"

Chuckling, he fishes his cellphone out of his pocket, punches in a code, and one of the doors audibly locks down. “I've restricted access to one of the corridors leading to my room as well. Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions? I'm well aware of the problems that arise from not taking the pills on time."

"I'm sorry."

I sense it's more like "painfully aware," and I regret that he's had to take this damaging cocktail of drugs several times daily for at least the last five years, if not more, just to be seen as a person. The meds —heat suppressants, scent suppressants and pheromone blockers— are known to wreak havoc on the body with their side effects, and I have to wonder about his health condition. If the Purge of Polaris hadn't occurred, would he have died young of kidney or liver failure? Would he have been forced to produce an heir before the drugs killed him?

"Hahaha... You can be so compassionate." He puts his phone away and starts making the next batch of twelve. “I don't dislike that about you."

This time, I merely hold him close as he cooks, but I do pick up the chopsticks when the next dozen is done to feed us both in turn… that is until he starts trying to intercept my share as well.

Laughing, I move it further to the right, let him twist in my arms and chase it a bit before relenting. The next time he does it, I quickly dart forward to grab it, holding it teasingly in my front teeth. To my surprise, Yamato takes the bait, bites half off, and I steal a kiss — gentle, mostly chaste, just a light brush of lips on lips. He doesn't recoil, so I catch the back of his neck and kiss him again, properly this time, deeper. There's still the taste of takoyaki, but I'd almost forgotten what kissing an Omega is like.

It feels like belonging, like I'm where I was always meant to be, and he clings to me, responding clumsily. It takes every ounce of self-restraint not to hoist him up onto the counter and have my way with him, especially when he makes that little sound of pleasure as our tongues intertwine.

“It's not fair," he mumbles when we part for air, flushed and breathless, eyes dilated with lust, and he smells like arousal and unfulfilled desire.

“Oh, it is in this case," I tell him with a shaky laugh, "and in about five minutes, I'm not sure I'll be able to stop myself. And the truth is I don't really want to stop.” I card my fingers through soft silver hair. “I want to know you the way only the mating bond will allow." 

He swallows thickly. "And if I say I'm not ready for that?"

Reluctantly, I force myself to let him go, backing away to pin my hands hard behind my back on the opposite counter and let the pain ground me. "Then you should either leave or clarify what you'll allow, maybe let us relocate to your room before I lose the ability to be rational about this."

He doesn't move. "Haha... I wanted to know what you'd do if I said no." Looking up with an amused smile, he nabs the last piece of takoyaki. "To be honest, I'm curious. I'm curious what manner of civilian life should give rise to someone like you. You have such power, yet you are wise and choose not to abuse it. After today, I must say my curiosity has won out." He shakes his head, a hint of self-derision. “I have nothing left to lose."

"You'd allow me to claim you out of curiosity?"

"Does that offend you?"

I don't even know. "What if you don't like what you find?"

"It won't matter once we meet Polaris. What if you?" he counters.

“Heh." I smile, adoring. “I sincerely doubt that."

"Hahaha... I think we can manage the walk to my room in the three minutes we have left."

I don't need to be told twice, pushing off to lift him into my arms. I kiss him again as he leads the way, and it's pretty hazy how we make it to his bed, equally a blur when and where we discarded our clothes. I'm hard as nails, I don't think I could stop anymore if I tried, but maybe I won't have to — he whimpers when I rock my hips into his and pulls me into another kiss, making up in ardour what he lacks in technique. I cradle him to me with one arm, palming the curve of his ass with my free hand, and he moans loudly into the kiss when my fingers dip between his thighs.

But it's oddly _dry._

As if reading my mind, he breaks away to mutter, "Side effect of the drugs."

Well, yes, I figured as much, can't say I didn't expect it, but this does complicate the rest of the process. What I never expected is for Yamato to suddenly disentangle himself and pull away, mumbling that I needn't continue.

“Wait, wait, what?" I shake myself. Ugh, it's really hard to focus like this. “Yamato, wait. It's not like we can't or anything. It just takes a bit of time."

"What, next week? We don't have that kind of time." He sounds dismissive, but I can tell it's not okay at all, and if I lose him now, I've lost him forever.

"No. No, no, no." I crawl closer to hold him, press my forehead to his. “Listen, don't go. Trust me, it'll be okay."

And now that I'm properly looking at him, his pale skin is covered in what looks like scars from some kind of pox, and there are faded lines that look like old surgical incisions stitched closed. I want to know their history, but this isn't the right time to ask, and I'll know soon enough anyway.

"At least let me try something?" I pull him to lie atop me. "Just tell me if anything hurts or feels uncomfortable."

He nods, and I gently trace the lip of his entrance with the tip of one finger. Perhaps climax will trigger or regulate his body's long-interrupted responses.

“Ngh..."

"Does it hurt?"

Yamato shakes his head, hips bucking as he mewls in my ear, and I groan, tightening my hold on him. I'm getting close — I don't know if I can last. Moving his hair aside, I kiss the side of his neck, fighting the instinct to bite, and he gasps my name, trembling as my fingers find a little moisture at last. Still mouthing at that spot, I press in lightly, and he cries out in obvious pleasure, trailing off into desperate little whimpers as I move in shallow circles. Pressing in a little deeper, I scrape my teeth over his jugular, and he jerks, spilling on me with a shout, but even that sweet friction has nothing on my relief at feeling slick pool around my fingers at last.

Rolling us over, I laugh happily as I peck him on the lips and lace our fingers as I slide in. His eyes snap to mine, uncertain, and he's tight, but it doesn't look like it hurts, so I start moving — gentle first, then harder.

“Hibiki—ngh..." His grip on my hand tightens — he's fully erect again, maybe he always was. "Ha—"

It slips into a loud cry as he bares his neck, back arching off the bed, and I let instinct take over at last, burying myself inside him as my teeth pierce skin. He clenches hard around my knot, and I clutch him to me as I spill helplessly, rapture searing white-hot into my eyelids.

The rush of memories comes on its heel, and I—

It's hard to watch this.

He’d first summoned Cerberus during his first heat while running from an Alpha that broke into his house. Without even knowing what was happening, he'd collapsed from exhaustion soon after and woken up in the hospital, sick and weak from all the drugs. That's where the pox-like scars are from — an adverse reaction to one of them. It hadn't started out as his choice. 

It's hard watching, knowing I can't do anything.

Although Omegas are prized by society for their rarity, they are rarely accepted as leaders, and Heavens forbid the Hotsuin clan head should be one. It was a secret they'd kill to protect, even if it meant slowly killing Yamato as well. He's had several surgeries since then —implants, transplants, treatments— and a host of machines and intravenous therapies to counteract the side effects and restore his health. They do need him alive until they find a suitable replacement, after all.

Ugh, it's really hard. I hate this.

Between that, there's the training, the lessons, the politics, the fighting; people trying to use him and resenting that he's too smart, having to use brute force just to be left alone every time the drugs wore off, the expectation to bear heirs while being shamed for the ability, being derided when his parents' deaths meant he had to take over as Chief. He hasn't even been anywhere other than the Hotsuin estate, the hospital and JP's branches except for brief work trips across the country.

_Oh Yamato._

Of course he resents this world. All he has ever known is pain, anger and bitterness. What is there not to resent in his life? I'm not sure he even knows what it feels like to be happy.

"I still don’t see what it is that sets you apart from all the others," he muses suddenly. “Perhaps it is a combination of factors, or th— Why are you crying?"

I shake my head, wrapping my arms around him tightly. “I'm sorry. I won't let anyone hurt you again. You'll never be alone anymore."

He seems puzzled for a moment, then says, "Of course, we'll meet Polaris together as promised."

"No, that's—ngh..." It still feels really good, and if I weren’t such an emotional wreck from the bonding, I'd probably still be cresting some wave of orgasm. "I mean— I—" Leaning up, I press a kiss to his brow, struggle to focus. “It won't be anything like this, but I hope you'll be my mate in the world beyond that too."

"I see..." He lets out a soft sigh, mixed pleasure and resignation, and settles into a more comfortable position to sleep. “Come find me, Hibiki, and we’ll decide then. I’m sure I’ll remember.”

“It’s a date then.” I shift a bit as well, holding him close with a happy grin. “Don’t forget to tell your security detail not to shoot me on sight.”

“Don’t be silly,” he mumbles, half-asleep. “The government doesn’t kill in public.”

“That’s worse,” I retort, “I’ll be alive to feel the pain,” but he’s already drifted off.

It’s all right though, I think; it’ll be okay.

Over the bond we now share, I sense contentment.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

I open my eyes at the sound of an incoming train.

I’m back in Shibuya Station with Io and Daichi, and it feels like I’ve just woken from a long dream.

I can still feel the Akasha Stratum spinning into a vortex around me, around us… Yamato.

Daichi and Io are talking about the exams as we board the train, and all I can think of is that I can’t smell everyone anymore. In my new memories, there are no Alphas, Betas and Omegas. Not much else is different though.

_Crap._

Yamato, I need to find him. I need to go to the Diet Building.

“You guys go on ahead,” I tell them as I get off at Nagatachō. “I just remembered there’s something important I need to do here.”

They seem confused, but wave me off anyway. I’m sure Daichi will be glad to have time alone with Io at any rate. As soon as I get out of the station, I start running. The truth is I don’t know if he’s even here. He might be in Osaka today instead. But maybe, just maybe…

There’s a limousine pulling up at the front entrance when I arrive, and I keep running till I reach the bottom of the steps. Gasping for breath, I look up to find him at the top.

He looks so beautiful in the afternoon sun, and I’m relieved I still think so, that my sentiments were my own and not a mere figment of biochemical reactions every time we were in the same space. Our eyes meet, and I’m sure he remembers — we don’t need any words.

“A friend of yours, Hotsuin?”

He’s joined by Makoto and a middle-aged man, probably a politician of some sort, both looking to see why he’s stopped so abruptly.

Yamato scoffs. “Of course not. You know I don’t have any of those.” Still, he walks over, smiling only for me. “My apologies. It appears that I’ll have to postpone your interview today to eighteen-thirty. As you can see, some business has come up.”

Interview? Oh, I suppose I can live with that. I’m pretty used to him ordering us around.

“Of course.” I mirror his smile. “I understand.”

“Sako, do see to it that this young man is escorted to my office when he arrives later,” he says as he climbs into the limousine with the politician.

“Yes, Chief Hotsuin.”

I watch the limousine drive away till it turns the corner before finally checking my cellphone for the time. It’s almost one-thirty. After that last week, five hours feels like a veritable eternity.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Just like Daichi and Io, Makoto doesn’t remember, but that’s all right. Just as Io had been speaking her mind to Daichi earlier, I guess they don’t have to consciously remember to change.

Yamato is working on something in his office when we arrive, and it looks much the same as it did before. He stands as we enter, nods at Makoto as she excuses herself, and I’m circling the table as soon as the door clicks shut. He lets me kiss him, lets me wrap my arms around him, and it’s not quite like it was before, but my feelings haven’t changed, and he’s kissing back like he’s always wanted to.

“I’ve missed you,” I tell him when we part for air, and he laughs.

“It’s only been a few hours.”

Grinning, I squeeze his waist lightly. “What, I can’t miss you already? How’s this world been so far?”

“Heh. Well, I’m not slowly drugging myself to death, for starters.”

“That’s a pretty good start by my count.”

He shakes his head. “That aside, this society isn’t much less broken than the last.”

“Then let’s change it.” I clasp his hand. “Together.”

“Yes,” he agrees with a smile, leaning forward to rest his head on my shoulder. “On equal ground.”

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, all right, I took a break from writing my other fic to write smut. Surely you can't object to my priorities...? As usual, this is un-beta-ed, so... Spotted a typo, thoughts you'd like to share, just want to smack me and tell me to update the other one? The fields/buttons are below. I love it when you use them. ♥


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